Divorce Contract C107

Chapter 107

Yoon Jaeseon placed the overly sweetened honey water before Seo Dohyeon without answering the weary murmur.

“If you wear yourself down like this from the start, you won’t even have the strength to part properly. It takes stamina, even for that.”

“Is that the advice of someone who has lived through it?”

“It is. And you may not realize it, sir, but you look pitiful. Truly pitiful. The fact that you’re going through this alone makes it even more pathetic. You look… diminished.”

“…Give me the documents.”

Dohyeon pulled a face as he swallowed the cloying liquid. It was so thickly sweet he could scarcely tell if it was honey or honey water.

“Did you brew this for me to die drinking it?”

“I brewed it to sober you up. I told Go Igyeol you’d be visiting tomorrow.”

“……”

“You must file the divorce documents together. Unless a spouse is imprisoned or abroad, both parties must be present.”

Jaeseon withdrew the papers from his briefcase, rubbed at his eyes, and handed them over when Dohyeon reached out. As he did, he wondered whether he ought to tell him—that Igyeol had changed the way he addressed him. Would it soften the shock if he heard it in advance? But under Dohyeon’s searching gaze, he turned his eyes away. He decided not to say it.

“He didn’t seem to have read them carefully.”

“I thought as much. I should have added a clause in the agreement that even after divorce we’d live under the same roof.”

“…Do you mean that seriously?”

“At least then I’d have an excuse to meet him again, to revise it.”

This clinging, unfamiliar, unbecoming Dohyeon was someone Jaeseon could not get used to. He shut his mouth tightly, acting as though he’d heard nothing. Perhaps the alcohol was wearing off, for Dohyeon, who had been slouched, now sat up straighter.

“Tell him I’ll come around ten tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And tell him not to rush.”

“I’ll pass it on—that he may take his time.”

As Jaeseon gave the expected reply, Dohyeon traced each place where Igyeol’s name was signed, brushing the paper with lingering tenderness.

Go Igyeol had spent the night awake, together with the babysitter who had soothed Seo Ihyeon’s endless fussing. Neither had slept more than a half-hour. Each time the baby was laid down, he cried as if he sensed it. Igyeol, restless and sweating, hovered by the sitter’s side.

“You’re only just coming out now?”

Shin Eunsuk kept her voice low. Igyeol glanced back at the door and nodded. “He just fell asleep,” he whispered, rubbing the dark hollows beneath his eyes. Checking the time, he sighed faintly. Already nine o’clock.

“What time do you have to leave?”

“If I go around nine-fifty, it should be fine. I’d better wash quickly.”

“Wouldn’t thirty minutes of sleep be better? You look exhausted.”

But Igyeol shook his head and smiled faintly. “I’ll sleep after I come back.”

“You’ve got someone helping with the baby. Why wear yourself out all night?”

“I don’t know. I just… I can’t rest easy. The moment he cries, I feel so uneasy I can’t sleep.”

“If you keep this up, you’ll collapse. You’ve barely recovered, and if you wear yourself down again, what then?”

Eunsuk kneaded his stiff shoulders anxiously.

“I’ll be fine. Really, I will. Auntie, I’ll go wash now.”

He stopped her from following him inside and closed the bedroom door. Leaning against it, he pressed at his heavy eyes. Even with help, it’s this hard. Without it… The thought itself was crushing.

“…My head hurts.”

He pressed at his aching temples, recalling the babysitter asleep by Ihyeon’s side. Dohyeon had hired him—a small-framed omega, soft in demeanor, quiet by nature. He spoke only when spoken to, handled what was needed without fuss, and if anything was lacking, went to the employer rather than troubling Igyeol or Eunsuk. There was no waste of energy in his presence. Igyeol found he liked that.

Though he was tempted to collapse onto the bed, he forced himself toward the bathroom. If he lay down, he would never rise again. Standing beneath tepid water, he shook his head to chase off the heaviness. He was glad he hadn’t used hot water. Time was running short; hurrying, he left the shower, shaking water from his hair. Droplets trailed down the strands onto his bare shoulders.

Dry it properly.

The voice rang in his ears—Dohyeon’s voice. His hand stilled as he reached for clothes, scratching absently at his ear. Muttering to himself that he had no time, he threw on whatever came to hand, pulled on a coat, and left. Only after Eunsuk caught him and insisted on drying his damp hair did he finally manage to leave the house.

Sitting on a bench overlooking the parking lot, he waited. Soon, a familiar car rolled through the gate and stopped before him. The driver’s and passenger’s doors opened almost at once, spilling out both Jaeseon and Dohyeon. Uncertain where to look first, Igyeol bowed to them both.

“…Hello.”

“Good morning.”

Jaeseon looked briefly startled that Igyeol had come out to wait. Dohyeon, however, squinted faintly, scanning his appearance. His cheeks were flushed, whether from the thin coat or the damp hair. His fingertips and ears were red, the skin chafed from habit. He said he was well… but he doesn’t look it at all. Dohyeon sighed as he cast a sharp glance at Jaeseon.

“Why are you standing out here?”

“I… finished getting ready early. So I…”

Igyeol faltered, trailing off as his eyes lingered on Dohyeon. His face was leaner, dark shadows under his eyes. His skin was pale, and there was a somberness about him, as though he had suffered.

Feeling Igyeol’s gaze, Dohyeon arranged his features into an expression more troubled still, as if inviting sympathy. Jaeseon noticed, and averted his own eyes deliberately. Before he could act, Dohyeon stepped forward, shedding his coat to drape it over Igyeol’s shoulders. Warmth spread over his chilled body, and Igyeol lowered his head faintly in acceptance. It was too late to refuse.

Once he was settled in the back seat, the door shut. Rubbing warmth back into his stiffened fingers, he watched Dohyeon and Jaeseon exchange a few words outside. Then Dohyeon entered, sitting beside him, and moments later Jaeseon joined them, starting the car in silence.

“The temperature—raise it a little,” Dohyeon murmured.

“Yes, sir.”

The heater hummed softly. Igyeol debated whether to give thanks, then, to shake off drowsiness, bit the inside of his cheek. But sleep pressed down regardless, heavy lids sinking.

The drive will take a while. I can rest a little…

As his tension loosened, he drifted into slumber. His head lolled gently until Dohyeon guided it to rest upon his shoulder. Listening to his faint breaths, Dohyeon spoke quietly.

“Secretary Yoon. Drive a little slower.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And raise the partition.”

“Yes, Executive Director.”

A mechanical whir sounded as the black screen slid up, sealing the back seat into private space. Dohyeon wished time would halt here. Never in childhood had he prayed for something so childish, but with his moments with Igyeol dwindling, even such impossible desires grew desperate.

The courthouse loomed far too close. Worse, the road was clear, no traffic to delay them. The car carried them straight through without pause.

Still, Igyeol slept on. Dohyeon could not bring himself to wake him. He wanted, greedily, to keep even this moment.

Jaeseon, sensing it, slipped from the car without cutting the engine, surveying their surroundings and calculating how best to handle the news once the divorce was filed. Articles could not all be stopped. Perhaps it was better to release a statement first. Yet the timing—the birth and the divorce coinciding—would only stir uglier gossip.

Headlines would blare, not caring for truth: that the child was not his. Both Dohyeon and Igyeol knew there was no clean parting left to them. They had accepted the rumors. Still, Jaeseon felt the bitter weight of it—that Igyeol would bear the harsher blow.